


Shhhh

by tinsnip



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cardassians, Child, Cuddling, Family, M/M, Post-Canon Cardassia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:24:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1895595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinsnip/pseuds/tinsnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes even emergent kids miss the family bed.</p><p>Post-Canon Cardassia kidfic inspired by the enjoyable headcanons of <a href="http://cosmictuesdays.tumblr.com">cosmictuesdays</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shhhh

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cosmictuesdays](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=cosmictuesdays).



Down the hall he creeps, slowly, carefully…

He knows how to place his feet just so, letting his claws fall without a click on the tiled stone. Here, here… It's cool against the soles of his feet, and the night is cool too, all of it wrapping him up in welcoming shadow.

He's not afraid of the dark. Some kids are. At his wen-ba', some kids won't go down the dark hallways unless someone else goes with them. That's never really troubled Essim, who's never felt alone in shadow, and so as he walks carefully and quietly down the hall in near-total darkness, lit only by the faint light of letaU who doesn't see, he doesn't tremble, he doesn't shake, and when the voice comes—

"Essim."

—he doesn't startle. Why should he? There's no reason to be afraid of the shadows. They usually hold Yadik, after all.

He stops, turns, bows. "Yadik."

"What are you doing up?" Yadik steps from where he stood by the 'fresher room door, slipping from shadow. He's in his night shift. His crest is mussed. He's frowning, but not really.

"I can't sleep."

"Are you dreaming?"

"I don't remember any dreams..."

"Come. I'll put you back to bed."

But he doesn't want his own bed. He is emergent. He _is._ But still…

Yadik looks at him, eyes wide in the dark, and he looks back.

"With us, hmm?"

"If I may…"

Yadik's sigh is soft.

"Come, then…"

Hand in Yadik's hand (soft, big, thick-fingered, cradling his own) they walk down the hall together to the door at the end, open just a crack. It's dark inside, a warm darkness, and he drops his jaw to taste the warmth. Yadik smiles, watching him, and his shoulders echo the smile.

"Is he sleeping?"

"What do you think?"

He can hear him breathing. Long, slow…

"Shh," he says, looking up at Yadik, and Yadik's nod in return is solemn.

Essim crosses the floor slowly, cool step by cool step, and when he reaches the bed he stops and looks and scents, figuring out where he is… there. There is FaThur's long, warm shape, curled up in the bed, and there his breath is puffing faintly bright against the night…

If he reaches out carefully, slowly; if he moves as Yadik has shown him, so that the space between not-touch and touch almost isn't there—

"Ah—"

Not quite. Not this time. His wrist is caught in a firm grasp, and he squeaks (embarrassing! like a hatchling!). Beside him, Yadik's soft laugh drifts down.

"Oh… Essim…" A pause, and he sees FaThur's eyes blink in the dark. "Garak. What are you two doing…?"

His voice is soft-sleepy, more of a warm thrum than anything else, and Essim hums and smiles and pulls himself up on the mattress. FaThur is watching him.

"I couldn't sleep."

"So you found Yadik."

"No. Yadik found me." He's matter-of-fact about it.

His parents exchange a Grown-Up Look. They do that a lot.

"You're a bit big for the bed, sweetheart…" FaThur's voice is smiling, but there's a bit of a tsk in his voice. Essim doesn't mind.

"Yadik said it was all right."

"Oh, well, if Yadik said…" Now FaThur is laughing drowsily, and his arm slips over and around Essim, tugging him close. That's nice, but…

"Can I turn?"

"Sure, why not…"

And so he does, head-to-foot, and shortly he is nestled between his parents, tucking himself under the sheets until he's warm in his cave. He reaches out, trying again for the softness of not-a-touch, and this time FaThur barely stirs as Essim strokes the sole of his foot. Here his skin is thicker… here he almost feels like a proper person, and here his skin is scaled-soft like Essim's toy regnar, perfect for pressing a cheek against, for a cuddling rub—

"Tickling…"

"Sorry, FaThur…"

His other hand is rasped by Yadik's blunt claws, curling around his palm, pressing him close. He feels Yadik's hand close gently around his foot, hears his soft hiss.

"Go to sleep, Essim."

He's drifting, safe and warm.

"Good night…"


End file.
